


A Question of Time

by Kalkasar (Mordhena)



Series: A Question of Time [1]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Bossy Malcolm Reed, Caught in the Act, M/M, mild dominance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27078070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Kalkasar
Summary: Enterprise discovers an unidentified "alien" shuttle adrift andapparently abandoned.
Relationships: Malcolm Reed/Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Series: A Question of Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980130
Comments: 28
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

I can't find any reason for this," Trip said, glancing over his shoulder at  
Malcolm. "To all appearances, the shuttle's in perfect condition, I don't  
know why it's just sittin' out here in space."  
  
"No signs that the weapons have been discharged," Malcolm added, focused on  
his console. "From the outward appearance, the craft has not been involved  
in any kind of fire exchange." He frowned, moving to another console on the  
small bridge. "Everything appears, as you say, to be in perfect order."  
  
"Then why..." Trip trailed off, moving through a hatch into another part of  
the small craft.  
  
Enterprise had discovered the derelict craft adrift in space almost two  
hours ago. She was undeniably a shuttle pod, too small to be used for any  
kind of long-range exploration. Her lines were crisp and clean, beautifully  
aerodynamic to Trip's appreciative eyes.  
  
She bore few markings by which to identify her; no name blazoned on her bow.  
A chevron, with a red blaze down the port and starboard sides, two warp  
nacelles tucked neatly under her hull, and the registration code 1701D  
stamped at her stern.  
  
After scanning the vessel, Captain Archer had decided to  
send Malcolm and Trip to make a more thorough investigation.  
  
Malcolm glanced towards the hatch that Trip had ducked through, but remained  
where he was. "You probably shouldn't stray too far," he said. "We  
don't know yet, exactly what we’re dealing with."  
  
"Relax, Lieutenant," Trip's voice came back to him. "I'm not gonna get in  
any trouble."  
  
Malcolm sighed and turned to the console he was working  
on. "I'm going to try and find some sensor logs; they may shed a little  
light on things."  
  
"You go on and do that, Lieutenant," Trip called back. "I'm just gonna have  
a poke around back here and take a look-see at the engines."  
  
Malcolm nodded although Trip couldn't see him, focused on his work.  
The console was functional, but it took him several minutes to determine  
exactly how to start a download of the logs contained in the ship's memory  
banks.  
  
He tapped a couple of controls and gave a grunt of satisfaction as a  
blinking light signaled that the download process had begun. "I'm almost  
done here," he called to Trip. "What's your status?"  
  
"I'm...ahhh shit!" There was a hiss of escaping gas from the back of the  
craft, followed by the sound of Trip choking and retching, some frantic  
footfalls, followed by a heavy thud, and then silence.  
  
"Commander!" Malcolm left his work and bolted for the hatch, rushing through  
it to find himself in a room filled with greenish vapor that  
burned its way into his lungs causing a choking fit and searing pain. He  
closed his eyes, which also burned from contact with the vapor and got down  
on all fours. "Trip!" he called between fits of coughing. "Where the hell  
are you?"  
  
There was no response and with his eyes streaming, Malcolm was practically  
blinded. He reached for his communicator, flipping the cover. "Reed to  
Enterprise." He choked, the searing pain in his lungs worsening as a  
wave of dizziness assailed him. "We're in trouble here. Gas. I... I can't locate  
Commander Tucker."  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Trip slowly opened his eyes to find Doctor Phlox leaning over him in sickbay. He frowned, trying to remember how he got here. "Doc?"  
  
"Welcome, Commander." The doctor beamed and patted Trip on the shoulder. "You gave us some anxious moments."  
  
"What happened?" Trip asked, shaking his head slightly. "I don't remember  
anything. I was on the shuttle … how’d I get here?"  
  
"Apparently, you unlatched a canister of tetra chloride gas."  
Phlox told him. "You caught a good blast of it, right in your face. It's  
highly toxic, you know. You're a very lucky man."  
  
Trip looked around frantically. "Lieutenant Reed?"  
  
"He's fine," Phlox said cheerily. "Still sleeping it off as it happens, but  
he will recover. He was exposed to a less concentrated dose."  
  
"That's a relief," Trip murmured. "So how long am I gonna be in here?" His  
glance took in the sickbay.  
  
"Oh, just a few hours to be on the safe side," Phlox said. "I'm sure you won't lack for company,"   
he added. "The captain seems anxious to speak with you."  
  
Trip closed his eyes for a moment. Oh great, he thought, time to get my ass  
whupped. I know just what he's gonna say.  
  
Doctor Phlox was about to move away, but he paused, looking down at Trip for  
a moment with a puzzled expression. "You know, usually when I tell a patient  
that a friend wishes to visit - the reaction is more enthusiastic."  
  
"Yeah," Trip muttered, "under any other circumstances, I would be." He  
sighed. "Well, you'd better show him in, Doc."  
  
Phlox nodded and moved towards the doors, and Trip rolled his head to the  
side, looking for Malcolm.  
  
Reed lay on the bed next to Trip's, his eyes closed, dark lashes brushing  
against his cheeks. His breathing was slow and even. In repose his face  
seemed younger, more vulnerable. _I'm a damn fool,_ Trip thought. _I almost  
got you killed, __with my stupidity._ He sighed, looking away. _I owe you one, Malcolm,  
and I always settle my accounts._  
  
"You damned fool!" Jon's voice cut across his thoughts, and Trip turned to  
look into blue eyes flashing with fury as Jonathan Archer stormed into the sickbay.  
  
"Cap'n," he said softly, doing his best to look like he was at attention  
even if he was lying down.  
  
"Don't you Cap'n me." Jon practically collapsed into a chair beside the bed.  
"What the hell stupidity took over you out there that you took off your EV  
helmet?"  
  
"The air was breathable, sir." Trip felt like a  
raw cadet. The anger in Jon's eyes was genuine this was no friendly chat. Jon  
was about to rip the hide off of him, and Trip knew it was no less than he  
deserved. "At least it was when we first got there. If it hadn't been for me and my damn   
curiosity about that cylinder..."  
  
"If you'd had your helmet on, your curiosity wouldn't have nearly got my two  
best officers killed!" Jon voice rose to a pitch that Trip had never heard  
before.  
  
Malcolm stirred, moaning softly and both men glanced at  
him before Jon turned back to Trip, lowering his voice.  
  
"You know I expect you to set an example for the lower ranked officers," he  
said.  
  
"I know it." Trip let his breath out on a sigh, "I deserve all the ass  
kickin' you wanna give me." He paused a beat. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Dammit, Trip..." Jon's shoulders slumped and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs.   
"You nearly scared me to death."  
  
"Scared you?" Trip managed a small chuckle. "I think for the first time in  
my life, I managed to scare the hell outta myself." He met the Captain's  
eyes. "I'll be more careful in future. I promise."  
  
Jon nodded and changed the subject. "The logs Malcolm  
managed to retrieve are interesting. From what we've translated, it looks  
like the shuttle was on a routine flight. The pilot doesn't log any  
problems - everything is normal, and then, it just... stops."  
  
Trip frowned. "It's the weirdest thing." He said, "I don't get why a ship in  
that condition is just dumped. And where's the pilot now?"  
  
"Those are all questions we need to answer," Jon replied. “But the important  
thing now is for you and Malcolm to get back on your feet." He smiled  
slightly and stood up. "Phlox told me I shouldn't tire you too much,  
so I'll let you get some rest." He reached out and patted Trip's shoulder,  
before moving to Malcolm's bed for a moment.  
  
The lieutenant still slept, his cheeks slightly pallid from the  
effects of the gas, but his breathing was strong and regular. Jon laid a  
hand on his arm for a moment before he turned and left the sickbay.  
  
Trip watched the captain leave and then turned on his side,  
staring at the sleeping man on the other bed. He could only think that he  
was glad they had both come through the ordeal alive.  
  
I don't know what I would have done if he'd been badly hurt, or worse, Trip  
drew a deep sigh, biting at his lower lip for a moment as he  
allowed that to sink in. I was an idiot to take off my  
helmet. I shoulda known better. He remembered back to the moment he had made  
that decision.

\--  
  
"I can't see to work with this damn helmet on," Trip said impatiently.  
"Besides, it's too damn hot."  
  
"You should keep it on, Commander," Malcolm's voice was cool, reasoned, and  
he glanced at Trip. "Even if the air here seems breathable there could  
be..."  
  
"Yeah, there could be." Trip cut in. "But there probably isn't. He reached  
for the latch and released the pressurized environment from the suit,  
lifting the helmet off and ruffling a hand through his sweat dampened hair.  
"Those things make me feel claustrophobic," he muttered.  
  
Malcolm was silent, but his expression behind the mask of his  
helmet spoke volumes. He continued to study the console he stood behind, his  
dark brows knit together in a disapproving frown.  
  
"You got somethin' to say, L’tenant?"  
  
"No, sir." Malcolm replied. He kept working, eyes down, expression  
sour.  
  
"Sure looks like it to me." Trip turned away and began to try and activate  
another console in the small cabin.  
  
"Alright, since you insist," Malcolm said softly. "I find your attitude  
somewhat cavalier."  
  
"How would that be, Lieutenant?" Trip turned to face him.  
  
"Oh it's nothing unusual, and you're not the only one who does it," Malcolm  
replied. "I should think I would be used to it by now." He looked up from  
the console. "I do my best to ensure the safety of this crew. It's my job  
description after all, but if you insist in flying in the face of danger,  
well...far be it from me to prevent you." As he spoke, Malcolm depressurized  
his own suit and took off his helmet. "I may just as bloody well join you,  
since I look like an idiot fully suited when my superior is not!"

\--  
  
Trip sighed. "And then you got led right into the shit by a damned fool  
engineer who shoulda known better."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
Trip started in surprise as his eyes flew to Malcolm Reed's face. He  
wondered how long the lieutenant had been awake and watching him with   
sleepy grey eyes. _Such nice eyes._  
  
The thought took him so much by surprise that he  
flipped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling in confusion. What the  
hell? Where did that come from? He swallowed hard.  
"Uh, I didn't know you were awake." He said lamely.  
  
"Do you make a habit of talking to yourself?" Malcolm regarded him steadily,  
and Trip couldn't tell if the man was teasing or serious.  
  
"Only when I am sure to be caught," he tried a smile and was relieved when  
it was answered by a small grin in response.  
  
"It's one of the first signs of insanity, they say," Malcolm's voice held a  
definite edge of irony this time.  
  
"Naw, that's not a symptom of madness," Trip replied. "It's when you start  
having arguments with yourself...and losing."  
  
"And...do you do that often, Commander?"  
  
"All the time!" Trip grinned, letting his eyes flicker to Malcolm's face and  
away again.  
  
"Well, that explains everything." Malcolm murmured.  
  
Trip allowed a snort of laughter and shot Malcolm another glance. _My god, is_  
 _he flirtin' with me?_ He felt hot color flood his cheeks. With a heavy  
gulp, Trip closed his eyes and turned his mind to the ship's engines,  
anything but what was happening in the sickbay.  
  
He almost groaned with relief when Phlox came into the room, making some  
remark to Malcolm about coming back to the land of the living. He rolled  
onto his side, facing away from them, and closed his eyes. Get  
a grip Charles Tucker, he told himself. Your brain's been addled by that gas  
is all.


	3. Chapter 3

Malcolm Reed paced his quarters, trying to come to terms with the events of  
the mission to the abandoned shuttle. He couldn't believe that Trip had gotten   
them into such danger.  
  
In the sickbay he'd quietly shrugged it off. That was hardly the place to  
create a fuss after all but released from the doctor's care and in  
the privacy of his own cabin, the lieutenant fumed.  
  
"It's not as though he even cares about what happened. He thinks he can  
apologize and brush it off and it's all forgotten. Easy for him. All he ever  
deals with are engines, inanimate things! He doesn't have the weight of the entire  
crew on his shoulders." Malcolm paused to stare at the computer console on his desk,  
where the cursor blinked patiently, waiting for him to continue his personal log.   
He sighed and resumed pacing.

  
"I suppose I could lodge a formal complaint against him," he mused, "He did  
put my life directly in danger. The captain would have to listen, he would  
have to act, and yet, I don't think Captain Archer would make much  
of it. He and Trip have been friends for years. They are, as my father would  
say, tarred with the same brush."  
  
There was another reason that Malcolm hesitated to approach the captain  
about Trip. Something he allowed his mind to dwell on only  
briefly, when the thought refused to be denied.  
He was attracted to Charles Tucker III.  
  
Malcolm closed his eyes and pushed a hand through his hair. "How can I  
be attracted to someone who annoys the hell out of me?" He sank down on a  
chair, letting his breath out with an exasperated sigh. "I mean, the man  
can't even say my name without turning it into a question. 'Lootenant Reed?' As  
if...as if he is not even sure that is my name! Or if it's not that, it's  
'Malcolm?' God damn it, that drives me mad!"  
  
And yet, there was no denying it, Malcolm was helplessly caught in some kind  
of spell that Trip had woven. Whenever the commander was around,  
Malcolm was highly aware of his presence. His voice, his hands,  
and - Malcolm felt himself blush at this - that perfectly rounded behind that  
filled out Trip's uniform in the most ostentatious way imaginable.  
  
"There ought to be some kind of rule against that." Malcolm frowned, shaking  
his head. "I'll admit these uniforms reveal more than they cover in many  
ways, but I am sure Charles orders his half a size too small!  
  
"And where's the use in pining over him anyway? He's never given the  
slightest indication that he is even interested in males. He's the all  
American, red blooded hero. Not at all like... like me. That's the  
problem. Trip and I are polar opposites. It could never work  
out between us.  
  
"So, here I am. No better off now than I was ten minutes ago. I can't go to  
the Captain, because I doubt it would result in anything more severe than a  
slapped wrist for Charles. I can't even trust myself to talk to Trip about  
my concerns. We'd either wind up fighting, or I'd do something stupid, like  
letting on that I am attracted to him." He snorted his frustration and shook his head.   
"End log and encrypt."  
  
\---  
  
In another part of the ship, Charles Tucker tossed fitfully in his sleep. Perspiration  
beaded on his forehead, and he moaned something unintelligible, flipping to his belly, the  
rumpled sheet entangling his legs. "Oh...yeah," he whispered, squirming as a  
warm, wet tongue made a trail along his spine. "I like when you do that."  
  
"I know you do," a silken voice replied. "You like when I kiss my way down  
your back...you always have. Now can I get back to my work, Commander, or do  
you have some other reason to distract me from this delicate maneuver?"  
  
"Uh-uh. I'm not gonna say another word, Lieutenant...by all means carry on."  
  


Trip, lost in the throes of a sensual dream, moaned his partner returned to the ministrations on his spine.  
  
"And they say we English are prudish when it comes to sex." Malcolm murmured  
between licking and kissing his way along the Commander's spine. "At least  
we know when it is appropriate to speak."  
  
Trip smiled, keeping a tight rein on his tongue. If he wants me to shut  
up, I'm shutting, he thought, and then groaned as Malcolm shifted  
position, effectively trapping Trip's legs with his weight.  
  
"Now, where was I?" Malcolm's voice purred, "Ah yes, right about the seventh  
vertebra down I think." His tongue returned to Trip's skin, causing the  
commander to shiver with anticipation.  
  
He can even make a mundane word like vertebra sound erotic. He groaned,  
his hips moving involuntarily under the sensations of tingling pleasure that  
ran through him.  
  
"You like that, don't you, Trip?" Malcolm chuckled, running his tongue  
across the base of Trip's spine as one hand slid gently between his thighs,  
stroking him.  
  
"Oh, sweet mother of..." Trip gulped, "Malcolm!"  
  
"Shhhh, it's about time you let me explore a little more than usual."  
  
Muttering in his sleep, Trip ground his hips against the mattress, his breath  
growing harsh as he sought more pressure from that teasing hand.  
  
"You're all right with this? Are you sure?" Malcolm's voice teased,  
light and breathy as his fingers sought out Trip's balls, rolling them  
gently.  
  
"Uhm," Charles growled. "I'm all right if you quit teasing me and get on  
with it." He sighed, feeling Malcolm's weight shift as the lieutenant  
reached for something at the side of the bed.  
  
"Patience is a virtue ... you being a Starfleet commander should appreciate  
that."  
  
"You know that ain't one of my strong points, Loo-ten-ant." Trip  
deliberately drew out the word, smiling as Malcolm growled at him.  
  
"Hm, I'm not at all sure if you have any strong points, with the exception  
of being drop dead gorgeous."  
  
"Well, thank you, I think," Trip laughed and then bucked with a sharp cry as  
he felt Malcolm's slick, gelled fingers slip between his buttocks, his lips  
were captured in a hard, demanding kiss, and he groaned, his breath rasping  
in the back of his throat as he felt a finger slip through the tight ring of  
muscle, probing him.  
  
Malcolm tore his lips away, his breath brushing gently against Trip's cheek  
as he whispered. "Relax, you're making this harder on yourself." As he spoke  
he pushed his finger deeper into the commander's body, seeking and finding  
that sensitive gland inside and deliberately grazing his finger across it.  
  
With a cry Trip woke. He groaned and sat up, running a hand  
through his blond hair. "Damn!"  
  
He trembled with reaction to the dream, blinking slowly and looking around  
his darkened quarters. He half expected to see the Malcolm here in  
the room with him. That had to have been the most vivid  
dream he'd experienced in a long time. "What's the matter with me?" He asked  
the empty room. "What's happening to me? I haven't had feelings like this  
since Academy...since I was a kid."  
  
With a grunt he pushed the tangled sheets aside and got up, heading  
into the bathroom where he turned on the shower. He closed his eyes as he  
stepped under the streaming hot water, confusion enveloping him like a  
cloud. "It's not that I am bothered about having feelings for a man," he  
muttered. “But why now, why him?" Trip shuddered as remnants of the dream  
flashed back to his mind. He groaned. "And how the hell am I supposed to  
face him at work?"  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In _Enterprise D's_ time, "Federation Standard" is the official language of Starfleet and other Federation member races. Of course, to the viewer's ear, this sounds like American English (gotta love the universal translator). However, it is not necessarily English as we know it today. I have taken a little license with this idea for interest's sake in this story. It gave Hoshi something to do, and I like the idea that English could evolve to a point where it is unrecognizable. It is a living language and changes all the time. Just try reading [Beowulf in Old English](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43521/beowulf-old-english-version). ;)
> 
> * * *

The scanner beeped and chirped, adding a subtle background to  
Tucker's concentration as he tinkered with a component he had taken  
from the alien shuttle. Frowning, he probed with a laser tool, attempting to  
trip the switch that he hoped would unlock the codes he was trying to  
recover.  
  
After a moment, he set the part and the tool down on the worktable,  
stretched and rubbed his eyes. He'd been trying to get  
the thing to operate without success for hours.  
  
He took up the laser probe and the component and started  
again. After a few minutes there was a beep of response and the component  
hummed in his grasp as the switch moved. With a shout of  
triumph, Trip coupled the part to a relay on his computer console and turned  
his eyes to the screen, awaiting the readouts.  
  
Several pages of text scrolled across the screen, and Trip rolled it back to  
the beginning, noting that the information was in the same language that all  
data they had retrieved was recorded in. He tapped a button to apply  
Hoshi's translation protocols and sat back, blinking in amazement at what he  
read.  
  
"What the..." Trip double-checked and then stood up and moved to the com  
panel, tapping the call button. "Tucker to Captain Archer."  
  
"Archer. Go ahead."  
  
"Cap'n do you have a moment? I think you should take a look at something  
down here."  
  
"On my way."  
  
Jonathan Archer arrived in Engineering a few minutes later, and Trip led him  
to the console he was working at. "I finally unlocked that ID sequence," he  
said as they moved across the room.  
  
"Glad to hear it. What has she got to say?"  
  
"Well, I don't think you're gonna believe what she has to say - I'm not sure  
I even believe it myself. Here." Trip waved the captain towards the  
screen. Have a look and make up your own mind." He eased himself into his  
chair, waiting as the Captain leaned over the desk to look at the screen  
before he began to read aloud what the ID codes said.  
  
"Federation Shuttlecraft. Constructed Mars Shipyards - I'm figuring that  
numerical string is a date - Registered Shuttle pod complement, Federation  
Starship, 1701D USS... _Enterprise_."  
  
Jon blinked several times, and re-read the screen before he  
spoke, "Federation? USS? I've never heard either term before," he mused.  
"And you and I both know that isn't one of our pods. What do you make of  
it?"  
  
"I don't know what to make of it, Cap'n," Trip stared into the screen for a  
few moments, as though the answers might magically appear there.  
"But with everything that has happened lately, Daniels, Silik, I'm starting  
to think anything's possible."  
  
"Are you saying this shuttle pod is from the future?"  
  
"All I'm sayin' is, anything is possible." Trip said quietly. "Now maybe we  
have another Daniels on our hands, and maybe we don't, but I don't know how  
else to explain this."  
  
Jon nodded, conceding the point. "But if this is an Earth ship, why didn't  
we understand any of the language?" Jon looked from Trip back to the  
computer screen.  
  
Trip shrugged, recalling his brief conversation with  
Daniels.  
  
"It's nice to know Earth will still be around 900 years from now." Trip  
said.  
  
"Well, that depends how you define Earth." Daniels replied.  
  
"We don't know what Earth is like in the future, Cap'n. Maybe they speak a  
different language where this ship is from."  
  
Jon breathed out a sigh. "Well, hopefully we can find  
out more about this pod. I've got Hoshi looking for anything that might tell  
us more about it, or its pilot. We need to find out what happened to him,  
and more to the point, where he is now."  
  
The captain straightened. "Good work, Trip."  
  
Trip nodded, his attention returning to the computer screen, eyes focused  
on the name USS _Enterprise_. He wondered what the ship was like, who  
her crew were, what was her purpose? Questions he knew may never be  
answered.  
  
After a moment, he cleared the screen, shut down the relay and  
stood up. His stomach growled, reminding him he had missed yet another mealtime  
and he turned away from the worktable, heading for the mess hall.  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Ensign Sato bent over the console, frowning in concentration  
as she worked on the data Malcolm had downloaded from the alien  
shuttle pod. She hoped that something interesting would turn up from a  
linguistic perspective. The sensor logs were encrypted, and recorded in  
a language that, whilst unfamiliar, had not been difficult to decipher. She  
pursed her lips, speed reading as the screen scrolled line after line of  
information.  
  
Suddenly the scrolling paused, and the computer chirped as something triggered   
one of her search criteria. She smiled, tapping a control to  
isolate the section. 'Personal Logs' flashed on the screen and Hoshi almost  
cried out with delight.  
  
She turned to the captain. "Sir, I have found personal logs. She looked at the console   
and entered a command sequence, her smile broadening as she looked at Archer.   
"The logs are in Klingon, sir! It won't take me a moment to translate them."  
  
Bending over her task, Hoshi rapidly scanned the screen. "I  
think I can get these to play over audio."  
  
"If you can, that would be good," the captain replied. It would be  
interesting to hear what the voice of this person sounded like, though  
Jonathan Archer had to admit, he was puzzled as to why logs on a Starfleet  
vessel were recorded in Klingon.

  
\---

Malcolm Reed muttered a curse as he tried another sequence.   
He shook his head, his expression darkening as once again he  
met with a brick wall. "Damn!" He was tempted to pound the  
console in frustration but restrained the urge. He didn't need Commander  
Tucker in here lecturing him about damaging sensitive  
equipment.  
  
For once, his attention was not consumed with the teething problems of his  
own weapons systems, but with trying to analyze those of the 1701D.  
  
"How's it going?" The quiet enquiry nearly caused Malcolm to drop the padd.   
He turned to find himself face to face with Tucker.  
  
"Oh, uh..." Malcolm turned back to the console. "Bloody slowly, I'm afraid.  
I can't get this thing to decode, no matter what sequence I use." He studied  
the screen, using it as an excuse to keep his eyes averted from the  
commander's face. "I'm sure I will unlock it eventually, it's just a matter  
of..." he typed in several more sequences. "Finding the right combination."  
  
"Yeah, it can be a little tricky. I ended up pulling the ID sequencer  
apart and using a laser probe to decode it manually."  
  
"Good idea," Malcolm said "I don't want to try that in this  
instance, at least, not yet." He cast Trip a quick glance. "I'd prefer to  
leave the weapon systems intact for the time being."  
  
Trip nodded, and ran his eyes over the console, allowing them to travel from  
the screen to Malcolm's waist, and then on up the lieutenant's body to his  
face. His gaze lingered a moment, before he cleared his throat and  
quickly turned his attention to something else. "So I was wonderin'..." he  
began, but his words were cut off as the com panel next to Malcolm's station  
beeped.  
  
"Bridge to Lieutenant Reed."  
  
"Reed here," Malcolm said.  
  
"Captain Archer would like you to come to the bridge," Hoshi said, and then,  
her voice edged with excitement, she continued. "We've translated some  
personal logs from the 1701D."  
  
"I'm on my way," Malcolm pressed the button to shut off the panel and looked  
at Trip. "If you'll excuse me, sir?"  
  
"Actually I think I might tag along. They're probably gonna call me anyhow."  
Trip replied and fell in alongside Malcolm as they walked from the armory.  
  
"You had a question, Commander?" Malcolm asked as they walked.  
  
"Huh?" Trip was startled out of his own thoughts by the question.  
  
"In the armory, you were about to ask me a question?"  
  
"Oh!" Trip smiled and shook his head. "It wasn't important." He looked away.   
He had been about to ask Malcolm if he would like to join  
him for lunch, but now it didn't seem like such a good idea.  
  
The armory officer seemed too distant. Unreadable. Besides, a  
sudden thought occurred to him. His invitation might be taken the wrong way.  
He didn't need Malcolm complaining to the captain about harassment.  
  
Hoshi waited at her station, looking extremely pleased  
with herself. As Malcolm and Trip entered, she smiled broadly at them,  
before glancing to the captain.  
  
Captain Archer smiled slightly and nodded. "Go ahead, Ensign."  
  
Malcolm glanced around, noting that all of the bridge officers were present,  
including T'Pol. He turned his attention to Hoshi, who was busily tapping  
controls. After a moment, a voice began to speak over the audio system.  
  
* Jlchegh ejDo _Enterprise_...* Hoshi blushed and cast the captain an  
apologetic glance.  
  
"Sorry," she tapped another control. There was a pause in the audio and  
then, the same voice began to speak in English.  
  
*Personal log, stardate 47391.2. I am returning to _Enterprise_ after a three  
day Bat'leth tournament, on Forcas Three. It was a great occasion; many   
warriors were maimed. I was triumphant!*  
  
"Sounds like my kind of game." Malcolm smirked.   
  
Trip cast him a quick glance, but didn't speak, interested in hearing more  
of the log.  
  
*I was awarded champion standing. I look forward to returning to my duties, however, I anticipate a troubling situation. *  
  
There was a pause.  
  
*Tomorrow is the day of my birth. I have reason to suspect that my crewmates  
have arranged one of their intolerable parties. *  
  
"Well now, ain't he the lively soul?" Trip remarked and was hushed by the  
others.  
  
*I have no doubt that there will be gifts...and cake...and singing...*  
  
The voice took on such a note of distaste, that  
several chuckles were heard around the bridge.  
  
*Of course, I shall endeavor to bear it with honor...but a part of me  
still hopes that Commander Riker and the others have...forgotten.*  
  
Smiling, Hoshi shut off the recording. "That's it," she said. "Isn't it  
exciting? It's so interesting to think of a Klingon aboard a Starfleet  
vessel!"  
  
"This transcript does not reveal anything of importance," T'Pol said. "It  
has little value."  
  
"On the contrary," Captain Archer said, "It reveals to us that at least  
this Klingon is an accepted member of a Starfleet crew. One that obviously  
regards him highly. I find that interesting even if you don't." He glanced  
at Sato. "Thank you, Hoshi."  
  
"Sir." The ensign acknowledged, her expression smoothing into a  
semblance of her former enthusiasm.  
  
"What d'ya suppose a ba...battle..." Trip stumbled over the pronunciation of  
the alien word.  
  
"BetleH," Hoshi said.  
  
"Yeah, whaddya suppose that is?"  
  
"Some type of weapon, I would expect," Malcolm said, "Judging by the way he  
spoke of it."  
  
Hoshi was busy at her console, scanning library files. "It's a sword,  
Lieutenant," she said to Malcolm. "Mostly ceremonial, but also used in hand  
to hand combat."  
  
Malcolm smiled slightly. "I knew it sounded like my kind of game."  
  
Archer nodded and turned to Sato. "Keep a copy of the log on file, Ensign.  
I'll send it in with my next report to Command."  
  
"Yes, sir." Hoshi's hands moved over he console.

The captain turned to the other officers on the bridge. "Well, I'm sure you've   
all got other things to be doing; I just thought you might find the log interesting."  
He looked to his Chief Engineer. "Commander, I'd like you to work with  
Lieutenant Reed on the shuttle. I want to gather as much information on her  
as we can before I submit my report."  
  
"Aye, Cap'n." Trip turned to Malcolm. "Maybe I can give you a hand with that  
decoder sequence?"  
  
"I'd appreciate it," Malcolm replied as they made their way off the bridge.  
  
In the lift, Malcolm stood to attention, hands behind his back eyes straight  
ahead, and Trip took the opportunity to study the man's face in profile. No  
doubt about it, his newfound feelings for Malcolm still bubbled just under   
the surface.  
  
Trip was at a loss to understand why, suddenly, he'd discovered that  
the lieutenant was so damned attractive. It was a question he pondered  
in his off-duty hours, and one he spent considerable time  
deflecting whilst on duty.  
  
Suddenly, Malcolm turned to look at him. "Is there something the matter,  
Commander?"  
  
Trip gulped. "Uh, no." He turned his eyes to the l deck numbers scrolling by,   
wishing the lift would hurry up. Uncomfortable heat began somewhere  
around his collar bone and knew that before too long, that same heat was  
going to make itself evident on his face.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
 _You're alright with this? Are you sure?  
_  
Trip nearly closed his eyes. Nearly allowed a groan to escape, his whole  
body tingled as that smooth, accented voice caressed him. He  
raised his chin, stiffened his spine. Drew a deep breath.  
  
"I'm fine, L’tenant." He blinked, forced his mind to  
focus. "Exactly what's giving you a problem with that decoder?"  
  
To his relief, Malcolm let it drop. "I don't quite know," he replied.  
"I must have tried at least one hundred different sequences, but none of  
them worked. I have to say I admire whoever designed the security  
lockouts on these systems. I've never encountered anything so challenging."  
  
Trip felt the tension ease out of his shoulders. "Well, we'll take another  
shot at it. Maybe together we can get through that lockout. I agree though,  
they sure are well designed."  
  
The lift door slid open as he spoke, and the two men made their way into the  
armory. Trip drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He was  
determined to get through this without letting on that the lieutenant had  
such an alarming effect on him. He forced his mind to focus on the task in  
hand to the exclusion of anything else. He would be fine, he told himself.  
It was just a matter of discipline.  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For the record, I wish to state that Malcolm and I are in disagreement about how handsome Trip Tucker is. :p
> 
> Oh and...this is _in flagrante delicto_ and no mistake. *snerk*
> 
> * * *

Trip's fingers moved over the computer touch pad, his gestures  
steady and deft. Malcolm followed every movement.   
Unconsciously, he passed his tongue over his lower lip,  
imagining those same fingers tracing over his skin.  
  
He swallowed. The tension he'd felt in the lift on the way to the  
armory still present. He raised his eyes from Trip's hands to his face,  
drinking in the intense concentration as he appraised the engineer's features.  
  
He couldn't honestly say that Trip Tucker was a handsome man, his features  
were just slightly too irregular, but there were moments, such as  
now, when the man's face took on an intensity that Malcolm found extremely  
attractive.  
  
"There..." Trip glanced up and Malcolm quickly averted his gaze. "Try that."  
  
Moving to the console, Malcolm read over what Trip had done, and then tapped  
a command to test the sequence. There was a slight pause. A whirr of  
components before the computer gave an affirmative chirp and the screen  
began to fill with readouts.  
  
"Ha!" Malcolm looked up and met the engineer's blue eyes. "It worked! How  
did you do that?"  
  
A shrug. "Lucky guess?"  
  
Malcolm shook his head, returning his attention to the readouts. He ran a  
finger down the list of specifications. "This little lady packs quite a  
punch," he murmured. "The weapons she carries are almost on a par with our  
own. Somewhat excessive for a shuttle pod.”  
  
Trip shifted position, closer to Malcolm so he could read the screen,  
and he let out a low whistle. "Yeah, but maybe the conditions they face  
where she is from are different." As he leaned forward, Trip inadvertently  
brushed against Malcolm's arm. The contact was electric, and he froze.  
  
Slowly, Trip raised his eyes from the console and met Malcolm's gaze. He  
knew he should break the contact, but there was no way he could make his  
body obey. He stared into hooded grey eyes that met, and locked with his.  
  
Trip didn't know if he stepped back, or if Malcolm pushed him. He  
was aware of the movement only dimly. He moved back a pace, and another, and  
kept moving until he felt the bulkhead behind him.  
  
Their lips collided. There was none of the gentle hesitancy that happened   
when a woman kissed him. It was almost an assault, firm, confident. This was   
no chaste explorative kiss. Trip groaned. Closed his eyes.  
  
Malcolm's fingertips grazed his jaw, ran downwards,  
over his throat. A light scrape of fingernails ignited plasma fires all through him.   
Reed's flickered against his lips and with a moan, Trip parted them.  
  
The air was filled with their harsh breathing, the moist sound of mouths hot  
against each other, tongues entwining. Trip wanted to touch  
Malcolm, but his limbs seemed to have turned to water. He couldn't move if his   
life depended on it.  
  
Malcolm growled, pressing his body against Trip's,  
pushing him harder against the unyielding bulkhead. His hand moved  
across Trip's chest, exploring through the fabric of his coveralls,  
trailing across his belly and lower, to land on the growing  
hardness. He pressed his hips forward, spurred on by the small, gruff sound of pleasure  
his actions elicited. He pulled back a little, gently nibbling at Tucker's lower lip.  
  
Trip panted, squirming against the pressure of that hand, and the hard  
lean body pressed to his. His mind reeled from the combination of pleasure  
at that contact, and the new sensation of teeth gently pinching his lip. He  
whispered Malcolm's name the word swallowed as Reed silenced him  
with his lips and tongue.  
  
"Gentlemen, I don't think this is the time or the place, do you?"  
  
Malcolm stepped back smartly and came to attention.  
  
Trip was slower to react, his mind numbed by the abrupt cessation.   
"Jesus, Cap'n!" The engineer groaned, pushing himself away from the   
bulkhead with an effort.  
  
"Captain, I..." Malcolm began, but Jon held up a hand to stop him.  
  
Trip glanced at Reed, taking in the deeply flushed cheeks and his  
ragged breathing. He stepped forward. "I'm responsible for this, Cap'n," he  
said. He shot Reed a warning glance and then let out a ragged breath.  
  
Jonathan Archer looked from one to the other. He  
cleared his throat and met Trip's eyes. "My quarters. Five minutes. Both of  
you."  
  
Malcolm looked at Trip as the captain turned to leave the room. "You  
didn't have to do that," he said. "It's not as though you coerced  
me."  
  
"No, I didn't, but I didn't exactly discourage you either."  
  
"Not exactly, no." Malcolm suppressed a smirk as he turned to leave. "Well,  
time to face the music I suppose."  
  
Trip followed Malcolm into the hallway, his mind still awhirl with what had  
taken place. It was what he had dreamed of, and yet it was more than that;  
reality was different and far better than the dreams that had  
plagued him the last few nights. Trip  
sighed. He needed to talk with Malcolm. He needed to know  
what this all meant.  
  
As he walked, he licked his bottom lip, imagining he could still feel  
Malcolm's teeth pressing gently into the tender flesh. He sighed, pushing  
the thoughts out of his mind as they boarded the lift.  
  
A few minutes later, the two of them entered the captain's quarters.  
  
Jonathan Archer turned to look at them both. "I'm sure I don't have to tell  
you, that your behavior down there was completely out of line," he said.  
"That sort of thing is not what I expect from members of my bridge crew."  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"Sorry, Cap'n."  
  
Jon sighed. "I'm not going to record any misdemeanors, but I am giving you  
fair warning that this is not to happen again, do I make myself clear?"  
  
"Yes, Captain." Malcolm nodded.  
  
"Aye, sir."  
  
"Alright. Malcolm, you can go." Jon nodded to the lieutenant, who made a  
stiff salute and quickly left the room.  
  
As Reed left, Jonathan turned to Trip and waved him to a seat. "I can't lie  
to you, Trip," he said. "I won't say I'm not happy for you. Malcolm is a  
fine man, and a good officer. It's high time you moved on. After Natalie, I  
thought that you'd sworn off romance for good...but..."  
  
"Whoa, hold on there just a minute." Trip held up a hand. "Romance?" He  
laughed softly. "I don't know about that."  
  
The captain raised an eyebrow. "Well that was more than polite  
conversation down there."  
  
"I won't deny it," Trip replied. "But right now, I don't know exactly what it meant."   
He studied the floor and shook his head. "I don't know what this is."  
  
  
"Want to talk about it?" Jon leaned forward, looking his friend in the eyes.  
"You know I am always here for you, Trip."  
  
"I know, but I think the person I need to talk with is Malcolm."  
  
Jon nodded. "Be careful, Trip. Getting involved with a subordinate is  
never easy; there can be a lot of pitfalls..." He smiled.  
"And, try to keep it behind closed doors, will ya? I don't need the rest of  
the crew thinking it's OK to follow your example."  
  
"I'll keep it on the level, Cap'n." Trip stood up. "Thanks." He moved  
towards the door.  
  
"Trip," Jon added as an afterthought. "I make it a point not to pry into the  
personal lives of my crew. As long as this relationship doesn't interfere  
with your duty, I'll keep my nose out of it."  
  
Trip nodded, not missing the note of warning in his friend's voice, and  
stepped out of the room.  
  



	7. Chapter 7

  
It was late. Most of the alpha and beta shifts were asleep, but  
Trip Tucker walked the hallways, deep in thought about  
the events that had taken place the day before in the armory.  
  
He hadn't had an opportunity to speak with Malcolm since before they went  
to the captain's quarters. Things had gotten a little hot during an  
encounter with an alien race, and both the Chief Engineer and the Armory  
Officer had by necessity turned their minds to duty.  
  
Now, all was normal again, the ship at status green, the crew taking a well-earned   
rest. Trip sighed. Rest was denied to him right now.  
He'd visited engineering and surprised his staff. The shift leader  
obviously caught on the hop by his unscheduled visit. After assuring Crewman Kelly he  
was not there on a tour of inspection, he had taken a look at the warp core,  
and then left.  
  
Trip thrust his hands into his pockets as he rounded a corner, hunching his  
shoulders and letting his head droop. He didn't see the person he collided  
with until too late.  
  
"Doc!" he said, looking up quickly. "I didn't see you there."  
  
"Good evening, Commander," The doctor smiled at him, and Trip found  
himself wondering if Phlox was ever angry or had an off day.  
  
He nodded. "I was just takin' a walk. Couldn't sleep." He glanced along the  
hallway, which was empty at this time of night. "You're up late," he added,  
turning his attention back to the doctor.  
  
"No, not really." Phlox turned and began walking with him. "I had a few  
experiments I needed to keep an eye on. If you can't sleep, I can give you  
something to help you relax?"  
  
"Nah, thanks all the same, but I will be on shift in a few hours anyhow."  
Trip resumed his restless pace.  
  
"Is there something on your mind that you'd like to talk about?"  
  
Trip shook his head no, and then promptly changed his mind. "Actually, yeah,  
there is," he said. "I've got this problem..."  
  
Over the next few minutes, Trip explained the events of the few days since  
he and Malcolm had visited 1701D.  
  
The doctor listened, mostly in silence, but put in a comment here and there.  
When Trip was finished he drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "This is  
completely normal for the majority of races I have encountered," he said in a  
thoughtful tone. "It is only your species that seems to consider same sex  
attraction an aberration."  
  
"No, no, that's not it," Trip put in quickly. "I'm not bothered by havin'  
these feelin's." He paused. "It's not the first time, but..." with a sigh he  
went on. "Up 'til three days ago, I didn't feel this way, and if I'm honest,  
I would never have imagined feelin' this way for...for Malcolm."  
  
"I see," Phlox considered for a moment. "Well, from what I know of humans,  
your species can be..." Phlox searched for words.  
"Unpredictable," he said finally. "Just because you never thought that  
Lieutenant Reed was attractive before, doesn't mean it can never happen."  
  
Trip nodded, letting his breath out slowly. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he  
said.  
  
"Human sexuality is a captivating subject of study," Phlox murmured, "Of all  
the species I have had the opportunity to observe, humans fascinate me  
most." He stopped and turned to face Trip. "I would suggest that you find  
time to speak with Lieutenant Reed as soon as may be. Perhaps he is feeling  
just as confused as you are at the moment, and if he is not, then, perhaps  
he can help you to understand what is happening?"  
  
Trip nodded. "Yeah, I think I need  
to do that," he said. "Thanks, Doc." He gave a small nod  
and turned back the way they had come.

  
\---  
  


Malcolm Reed turned onto his back, scrubbing at his eyes with one hand. The  
disorientation of interrupted sleep made his head swim. He yawned and sat  
up, running a hand through his hair, before he stumbled out of bed and  
reached for a shirt. "This had better be good," he muttered, as he struggled  
into the garment, stumbling towards the com panel. Thumbing the  
button, he mumbled: "Who's there?"  
  
* Malcolm? It's Trip... I... I'm sorry to wake you. Can we ... talk? *  
  
The lieutenant sighed. He'd been half expecting this, but not at 0:200  
hours. He screwed his eyes shut and opened them again, the  
blurriness was if anything, worse. However, he knew he was not going to get  
away with putting this off. If he knew anything about Charles Tucker, it was  
that the man was like Porthos with cheese when he got it into his head to do  
something. He sighed again and pressed the door control. "Come in." He  
turned towards the bathroom. "I'll be back in a moment."  
  
Trip glanced around. Reed's quarters were neat. Notone item out of place.   
Padds were stacked neatly on the small desk-cum-dining table, lined up   
perfectly one on top of the other, not even a corner out of alignment with   
the one under it. On a side table, a small kettle, a teapot, and several mugs waited.   
All of the mugs were set upside down, with the handles to the right.  
  
There was a chair bolted to the floor in front of the desk and, a small armchair against   
the opposite wall. Malcolm’s unmade bed and a locker took up the other end of the room.  
  
Trip sat in the armchair, his eyes falling on a picture on the  
wall. A young Malcolm flanked on either side by a middle-aged woman and an  
austere looking man dressed in a Royal Navy uniform.  
  
"My parents," Malcolm said as he returned from the bathroom, his hair damp and  
freshly combed.   
  
"Cup of tea?" Malcolm went to the side table and busied himself with the  
kettle and mugs.  
  
"Coffee if you’ve got it," Trip replied. He leaned forward,  
resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. "Better  
make it straight black, and strong," he said.  
  
After a few moments, the lieutenant handed Trip a steaming mug and moved to  
sit at his desk. He sipped his tea, then set the mug down. "I take it you're here about   
what happened yesterday/” No hint of hesitation or embarrassment in his tone.  
  
"Yeah." Trip took a quick swallow of the scalding coffee, struggling to  
maintain eye contact. "I think we need to talk about it."  
  
"I agree." Malcolm leaned forward. "Look, if you're here to tell me it was  
all a mistake and it will never happen again, that's fine. I realize we have  
a professional relationship to maintain, and this could become  
rather...awkward."  
  
"I... That's... No! I mean, I..." A sigh and another sip of hot coffee,  
"I don't know, Malcolm. I'm confused."  
  
"Have you ever done anything like that before?" Malcolm picked up his mug,  
sipping from it slowly, watching Trip over the rim.  
  
"Yeah. A long time ago." Trip thought back to that brief encounter in  
academy. His name was Andrew. An upper classman as it happened, older and  
more confident than the young Charles Tucker had been. It was a sweet  
seduction all the headier for its unfamiliarity, but it was over before  
the end of his second year. "It was a pretty common thing back then, easier  
than getting tangled up with a girl, you know?  
  
“At least, that’s what Andrew said. ‘Everyone does this, no strings, no  
ties. Not like you'd have with a girl. No one gets hurt, we all know the  
score.’”  
  
'No,' Trip thought, 'No one gets hurt...at least, no one lets on that it  
hurts.'  
  
"You don't really believe that, do you?" Malcolm's grey eyes had never left  
his face, and Trip had the uncomfortable feeling that the lieutenant had  
read his mind.  
  
"No," he answered wretchedly. "No."  
  
"Good." Malcolm set his mug down, and looked Trip in the eyes, "Because I  
won't use anyone that way, and I wouldn't permit anyone to use me, either."  
  
Trip nodded and set his empty mug on the floor. It felt as  
though the walls between himself and Malcolm had sprung up again. He  
stood. "Look, I should get going," he said softly. "I... have to be at work  
in a couple of hours and I've hardly slept all night."  
  
"Stay here." The voice was soft, but the tone was almost commanding.  
  
Trip turned to Malcolm and narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Stay," Malcolm said. "Don't run away from your feelings."  
  
Tucker shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  
  
"Nothing has to happen that you don't want," Malcolm said.  
"Just don't run from this before you've even given it a chance, Charles."

Hardly anyone called him Charles. Trip gave a small, tight not.  
  
"Get into bed." Malcolm told him. He smiled when Trip hesitated. "To sleep,  
Commander. You look like death warmed over."  
  
\---  
  
"These are the sensor logs that I downloaded from the 1701D." Malcolm said,  
activating a console screen. "I thought if we both worked on them together,  
we may be able to determine exactly what became of her pilot."  
  
"Alright, let's take a look," Trip stepped closer, standing alongside the  
lieutenant as he watched the text scrolling across the screen. Their bodies  
touched briefly, but whilst he was aware of it, there was not the electric  
magnetism he'd felt the day before. The attraction was still there, but it was more   
of a slow burn.

Two hours sleep might not seem like much, Trip thought, but they were  
two of the most refreshing hours of sleep he'd had in days.  
  
Tucker had fallen asleep in Malcolm's quarters. In Malcolm's arms, surrounded   
by a sense of warmth and wellbeing he'd not felt in a long time. The lieutenant   
had pulled him close, his fingers gently stroking through Trip's short-cropped   
hair but nothing more intimate.

"It's just a log of a routine flight as near as I can tell." He shook his head. "This is not  
going to get us anywhere."  
  
Malcolm sighed. "I've run this log ten times if I've run it once," he said. "I feel certain   
that there must be something here. A pilot doesn't just _vanish_!"  
  
"Well, not in the normal scheme of things," Trip said, "But this shuttle pod  
isn't normal, not by a long way." He frowned, "Run it again."  
  
Malcolm glanced at the engineer. "Did you see something?"  
  
"I'm not sure, run it to time index 2301 Alpha, and slow it down..."  
  
Malcolm tapped in the commands and Tucker leaned in, studying   
the readout carefully, but as the time index he'd asked for passed,   
the engineer shook his head and sighed.  
  
"It's nothing..." he said.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
Trip glanced up sharply. _I wish he wouldn't say that._  
  
Malcolm reversed the log to the same index and slowed it even further,  
bending over as he stared at the console. "Wait...what's this?" Indicating a  
point in the log, he backed it up again, and looked at Trip. "Sensor  
glitch?"  
  
Trip raised an eyebrow. "What the hell?" He bent closer to the screen, "I'm  
counting six bio-signs here..." He looked up. "You?"  
  
Malcolm nodded and smiled. "I thought it was something amiss with my eyes,"  
he said softly, "What do you make of it?"  
  
Trip scanned the readout, "I think I'm either goin' nuts, or this shuttle is  
somethin' out of a bad science fiction movie." He looked into the armory  
officer's eyes. "These six bio signs all belong to the same person." Trip's  
accent broadened, a sure sign that he was agitated or excited. "And lookit  
this, they all just vanished all of a sudden. The shuttle's left adrift, and  
I dunno...some kind of safety sub routines kicked in. Her engines shut  
down... and here she is."  
  
"Curiouser and curiouser," Malcolm commented dryly. "I think perhaps it’s  
time we informed the captain of our findings."


	8. Chapter 8

"It's an interesting discovery," Jonathan Archer remarked as he cut into the  
perfectly grilled steak on his plate. He put the morsel into his mouth and  
chewed briefly. "I'd like to get as much information on it as possible. Some  
of the technology you've shown us already is way beyond our current  
capabilities... the advances we could make ..." He shook his head and cut  
another bite of the steak  
  
"The weapons systems alone, are more advanced than anything I have seen,  
even in prototype," Malcolm said. He lifted a forkful of vegetables to his  
mouth. "With your permission, I'd like to dismantle the phasers on the  
shuttle pod tomorrow. There may be something I can apply to our weapons."  
  
"Granted," Jonathan turned to Trip. "What about on the engineering side of  
things? Anything you're excited about?"  
  
"Too many things to list, Cap'n. She has shields for one thing that are more  
advanced than our hull plating, and I want to take a closer look at that  
transporter system..." He lifted a glass of wine off the table and sipped  
appreciatively. "This little lady is a gift, and one we can't afford to let  
slip through our fingers."  
  
"I agree." Jon set his plate aside and nodded to the steward, indicating  
that he was done with it. "I think we should bring the pod into the launch  
bay, it will be easier to work on it from there, and I can keep a closer eye  
on proceedings." As he spoke, he winked at Trip who grinned sheepishly  
and finished his wine. "Now, Cap'n you know I gave you my word on that - but  
I think it'd be a good idea to bring her aboard as well. It's just easier  
having staff and equipment on hand."  
  
Malcolm Reed smiled slightly, watching the exchange between Trip and the  
captain. He picked up the napkin from his lap and lightly wiped his lips  
before folding the cloth and laying it on top of his plate. "If you don't  
mind, Captain, I'd like to be excused. I think an early night is in order."  
  
"Go ahead, Malcolm," the captain replied. He looked at Trip. "An early night  
is probably a good idea for all of us. Tomorrow could turn out to be a long  
day."  
  
Trip nodded and got to his feet, moving towards the door with Malcolm. As  
they walked along the hallway, Trip cast Malcolm a swift glance. "Well, that  
was easy."  
  
"The captain is a man of great restraint," Malcolm replied as they made  
their way towards the end of the corridor.  
  
"Oh? How's that?"  
  
"You could tell all through dinner he had questions, didn't you see  
the way he looked at you? Like a big brother wanting to protect his sibling  
from the school bully."  
  
"Well, Jon and I, we go back a long way." Trip smiled. "I guess he got used  
to lookin' out for me."  
  
"Would you care for a night cap?"  
  
The question was softly spoken, Malcolm flicked a quick glance at Trip then  
looked away again. The engineer slowed his pace a little, thinking it over.  
He was still unsure of his footing with Malcolm. He drew in  
his breath, understanding the implications behind the invitation.   
After a moment, he nodded.  
  
"I guess I could handle that."  
  
Malcolm paused at the door of his cabin, keying in an access  
code, "Take a seat," he said as they stepped inside. He began to search  
through his locker. "I have an excellent brandy here somewhere."  
  
"Tenebian?" Trip moved to the little sofa and eased his frame onto it.  
  
"No. It's French actually. I cannot abide alien copies. They just don't seem  
to capture the same warmth - Ah, here it is." He pointed to a cabinet as he  
produced the bottle. "There should be some glasses in there - on the right."  
  
Trip opened the cabinet and found two glasses, "Well, French brandy is just  
as good." He smiled as he held out the glasses to be filled.  
  
"I hope you know I don't often have people here for a night cap and never to  
drink my precious French brandy," Malcolm said as he poured a little  
of the golden liquid into each glass.  
  
"Well, I feel privileged, Lootenant," Trip drawled, as he handed one of the  
glasses to Malcolm.  
  
Reed regarded him for a moment, and then raised one eyebrow. "We leave the  
ranks at the door, old boy," he said.  
  
"Old? I'm barely past thirty!"  
  
"Yes, well - how's the brandy anyway?"  
  
Trip sipped the liquid and nodded slowly. "That's a damn fine drink. I can  
see why you'd wanna keep it to yourself. Now why don't you set yourself  
down, get comfortable?"  
  


Malcolm sat on the chair by his desk, facing Trip. "Did  
you sleep well last night?"  
  
Trip raised the glass to his lips once more, taking  
another sip of brandy before he answered. "Yeah, I slept  
well." He felt suddenly warm under Malcolm's steady gaze.   
He unfastened the zipper of his uniform a few centimeters.   
"This sure does have some kick," he said, raising the glass.  
“Is it warm in here?”  
  
"I keep my quarters a little above the normal ship's temperature, I tend   
to feel the cold." Malcolm replied.  
  
"Yeah, it feels like Florida." Trip ran a finger under the neckline of  
his undershirt.  
  
"Adjust your clothing if it is too warm. I promise not to molest you," Malcolm  
murmured.  
  
Trip cleared his throat and set the glass aside, pulling the zipper down to  
the waist and slipping the top half of the coverall off, knotting the  
sleeves loosely at his waist. A habit he had adopted when things got heated  
up in engineering.  
  
"There I'm sure that must feel much more comfortable." Malcolm said.  
  
Trip glanced at him, trying to read his expression. He felt that same, tremulous   
sensation he had experienced the previous night when Malcolm called him   
Charles. It was unsettling and exciting at once, and Trip found himself unsure   
how to respond. Picking up his drink, he stared into the glass. "You know,  
I..." he frowned, searching for a way to put his feelings into words. "I..."  
  
"So where do you think this shuttle came from?"  
  
Trip pounced on the change of subject eagerly. "I have  
some theories..."  
  
The lieutenant lifted the bottle and refilled both their glasses, "Oh?"  
  
"Yeah, I mean anything is possible, especially since that whole thing with  
the Suliban - time travel, whatever... maybe she's from another time.  
It'd explain a lot.  
  
"And you really think that’s possible?"  
  
Trip smiled. "You're the second person to ask me that. I'm not saying it is  
or it isn't but I think anything can happen. I'm an engineer. I've heard all  
the arguments for and against time travel. Personally, I like to think maybe  
sometimes things can happen outside of the laws we put so much stock in."  
  
"I see," Malcolm said noncommittally, and Trip had the feeling  
that he needed to defend his viewpoint.  
  
"I don't know how else to explain it. She's a Starfleet vessel but no ship  
I've ever seen - even on the drawing boards is like her."  
  
“This is true." The armory officer got to his feet and began to strip out of  
his coveralls. "I must check that regulator. It's stifling in here."  
  
The engineer watched Malcolm, wondering if he was being  
dismissed. He quickly finished the last of his drink. _Darned if  
I can figure you one bit, Malcolm_. He stood and set the empty  
glass on the sideboard. "I guess I should mosey along," he said,  
trying to ignore the sense of disappointment he felt. "We've got an early  
start in the morning."  
  
"Tucker!"  
  
There it was again, that unmistakable note of command. Trip tensed slightly  
and looked at Malcolm.  
  
"There's no need to leave so soon," Malcolm said quietly.  
  
Trip sighed and shook his head realizing he had read the man completely  
wrong. "I wasn't sure you wanted me to stay." He gave an  
impish grin. "My momma told me it's polite to wait for an invite, y’know?"  
  
Moving to stand in front of Trip, Malcolm set his glass down and lifted a  
hand to gently trace the side of the commander's face. "Would you like  
another drink... tea perhaps?"  
  
"No." Trip shook his head. "You want me to stay?"  
  
"I would like that very much."  
  
Trip almost timidly reached up to touch Malcolm's cheek. "So would I."  
  
With a growl, Malcolm caught Trip's hand in his own and pushed the blond man  
against the bulkhead, capturing Trip's mouth in a hard, demanding kiss.  
  
With a moan, Trip gave himself up to the mouth that crushed his own, parting  
his lips for Malcolm's questing tongue. He slipped his arms around the  
lieutenant's shoulders as Malcolm's tongue plundered his mouth.  
  
Malcolm broke the kiss, and Trip looked into grey eyes that smoldered with  
passion He groaned as Reed slipped his hand between them.  
  
"Stay tonight...it doesn't have to go any further than this unless you want  
it to." Malcolm gripped Tucker's testicles lightly in his hand.  
  
"I want to stay," Trip replied, his voice a fevered whisper as he ground against   
Malcolm's hand.  
  
"Then we would be more comfortable in my bed."  
  
"Yeah, I think that'd be a good ideah." Trip's accent broadened with his  
excitement. "If ahc'n walk that far." He laughed softly.  
  
"If you have difficulties, I can call the doctor." Reed moved towards the  
bed as he spoke, casting Trip an amused glance.  
  
Trip laughed, "That won't be necessary, Lootenant." He began to strip out  
of his uniform.  
  
"Be sure you hang that up. We won't have time in the morning to visit your  
quarters."  
  
"Yes, sir," Trip said. Removing the coverall he hung it  
over the back of a chair.  
  
"I sleep on the right," Malcolm said, patting the bed next to him as he lay  
down.  
  
"You're quite dominant when you're off duty, aren't you?" Trip couldn't  
suppress a grin at Malcolm’s commanding manner. He moved to the  
bed, stripping off his undershirt and letting it fall to the floor as he  
feasted his eyes on the lithe body stretched out on the bed.  
  
Reed raised an eyebrow. "If you mean I know what I want, then I suppose you  
would be correct."  
  
Trip stood at the foot of the bed, deciding to leave his shorts on for  
the moment, "Don't get me wrong, I like a man who knows what he wants - it  
cuts out a helluva lot of bullshit."  
  
"Then turn the light out and get into bed...we have an early duty shift in  
the morning."  
  
Trip laughed as reached for the lighting control. "Aye, Cap'n." He dimmed  
the lights to a soft glow and then climbed into bed, still laughing. Trip  
hitched closer to Malcolm, letting his fingers encounter  
warm, smooth skin, exploring Malcolm's belly.  
  
"Mister Tucker," Malcolm murmured, "Just exactly what are you doing?"  
  
"Reconnaissance, sir."  
  
Trip gasped as his fingers were caught in Malcolm's hand and the  
younger man's lips closed around them, sending a jolt of electricity from his  
hand, straight to his groin. He groaned, feeling his already achingly hard  
cock grow harder still.  
  
"Move in here closer to me," Malcolm whispered before his tongue returned to  
lick at Trip's fingers.  
  
Trip shuffled closer, pressing his body along the length of Malcolm's lean  
frame.  
  
"That's better don't you think...now where was I?" Malcolm's voice was a  
silken purr. "Round about here somewhere I think," He slipped his hand  
between Tuckers thighs and began to gently stroke him, in the same movement,  
he threw a leg over Tucker's thighs, pinning him so he could hardly move.  
"For the first time, what do you say I just milk this straining organ here  
so that you can get a good night's sleep?"  
  
Trip let out a groan. "Sounds like a plan to me," he  
whispered, trying without success to thrust against the hand that  
stroked him maddeningly through the fabric of his underwear.  
  
Reed slipped his hand into Tucker's shorts and wrapped his slim fingers  
'round the straining cock then, covering Tucker's mouth with his own he  
began the steady stroking that would bring his partner to orgasm.  
  
Tucker closed his eyes, letting his tongue meet and spar with  
Malcolm's, his breathing growing harsh.  
  
"Don't hold back..." Malcolm whispered close against Trip's mouth. "Come for  
me, hard and show me you really want to be here."  
  
Trip growled, trying to thrust into Malcolm's hand, feeling the tight coil of pleasure   
in his belly winding tighter by the minute. "I want...to be here...oh god...god...faster!"  
  
As he quickened his pace, Malcolm bit down on Tucker's bottom lip.  
  
Trip bucked with a cry of mingled pain and pleasure, his climax hit hard,  
sucking all breath from his lungs, and he gasped, thrusting against the hand  
that continued to pump his cock as he released.  
  
"You will sleep better now," Malcolm said quietly, licking across Trip's now  
swollen lip. He kissed the older man on the forehead and slipped out of  
bed, heading into the bathroom.  
  
Trip rolled onto his back, and grabbed a corner of the sheet, cleaning  
himself off as best he could. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip,  
feeling the swelling. 'He bit me. He lifted a hand to examine the place with  
his fingers. 'He bit me!' A frown touched his features for a moment as he  
looked towards the bathroom door.  
  
"You're still awake," Malcolm said with a smile as he returned to the bed a  
moment later.  
  
"Yeah, I was lonely. Trip hitched closer to Malcolm and nuzzled his  
lips across warm skin. "You know you gave me a fat lip?"  
  
Reed answered with a soft snort of laughter. "Haven't you ever heard that  
pain and pleasure together heighten the senses?"  
  
"Yeah, I've heard it, but as far as I recall, that's the first time anyone ever  
tested the theory on me." Trip sighed. "I guess it was just...surprising."  
  
The amused grin faded from Malcolm's lips, his eyes darkening as he gently  
traced a finger across the slight swelling. "It suits you," he breathed.  
  
Trip looked into grey eyes darkened with passion and nipped at Malcolm's  
finger. "What about you?"  
  
"Tomorrow perhaps, if we have time... now, we sleep."  
  
"OK." Trip disguised a yawn as a deep sigh. "If you're sure."  
  
"I'm sure. The captain will not be pleased if we arrive late for our shifts,  
we have to show a good example to the crew. Sleep." He pulled  
Trip into his arms. “Good night."  
  
Trip pulled the coverlet over them both and snuggled close against  
Malcolm's chest. "Yes, sir." He smiled sleepily, burying his face against  
Reed's skin, which was scented very lightly with a spicy fragrance. Within  
moments, he drifted into a contented sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopes are raised, and then dashed.  
> Malcolm asserts himself and Trip doesn't like it.
> 
> * * *

Captain Jonathan Archer yawned and stretched as he sat up on the side of his  
bed. The alarm had woken him early as requested, and he was expecting his  
breakfast to be served any minute.  
  
Getting to his feet he crossed the room to his communications center,  
activating it to see if there were any messages from home or Starfleet  
Command. He reached down to stroke Porthos's ears as the beagle came to  
nuzzle at his hand. "Good morning," he said absently, staring at the  
computer screen.  
  
There were three messages waiting, one from Admiral Forest, and two others  
from friends at headquarters. He selected the one from the Admiral first,  
waiting while it loaded.  
  
"Jon, I have to say your most recent report is very interesting. This  
shuttle pod sounds like a rare find." The Admiral's face was alive with  
interest as he spoke on the video link.  
  
"I'm authorizing you to take whatever action you think is best with this,  
but of course, we'd like to be kept up to date with any pertinent  
information you gather. I think we at Command can trust you and your people  
to handle this the right way. Anything you decide pertaining to _Enterprise_ ,  
is your call. He leaned back and smiled. "Have fun!"  
  
The less formal ending was spoken with a wink as the Admiral signed off, and  
Jonathan smiled. He'd had a feeling Forest would back him to the hilt. Trip and  
Malcolm would be pleased to hear they had the official go ahead.  
  
The captain was about to open the next message when his door chimes sounded.  
"Come in," he called. Anticipating that it was a steward with breakfast. He  
didn't look up as the door opened, focusing on the next message.  
  
Opting to read this message in text, the captain was aware of movement in  
the room as someone entered and set a platter on his table. He read the  
first paragraph of the message and then turned to the steward.  
  
"You can just leave it..." He trailed off, staring in disbelief at the man  
who stood next to the table. He drew in a breath and blinked several times.  
His eyes had to be acting up or something.  
  
"You're not seeing things, sir." The young man took a step towards him but  
halted when Jonathan held up a hand and scrambled to his feet.  
  
"Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?" Jonathan demanded. "If  
this is some kind of sick game I..."  
  
"It's no game, Captain. It's me, Crewman Daniels."  
  
"It can't be, you're..."  
  
"Dead?" Daniels smiled and gave a slight shake of his head. "It might have  
seemed that way, Captain, but I wasn't killed that day." He paused a moment.  
"Frankly, I can't die in this time...I don't exist here, but that's not why  
I am here. I have something very important to tell you."  
  
Captain Archer drew a deep breath as he sank back down on the chair and  
reached for Porthos.  
  
"I don't have much time," Daniels said softly. "You've discovered a  
Federation Shuttle adrift in this sector. It's an anomaly, Captain, and as  
such it cannot be permitted to remain."  
  
"Anomaly?" Some part of Jon's mind was aware he was parroting, but at the  
same time, he was unable to be more coherent. He stared at  
Daniels, still trying to make his mind accept that he was talking to a  
living, breathing man, and not a ghost. "I don't understand...What is the  
'Federation?'"  
  
Daniels took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The Federation is a  
shortened name for The United Federation of Planets, sir. In a few  
centuries, due to your exploration, and that of others many planets will  
come together to form it. It is a means of cooperation. Planets within the  
Federation receive assistance, and protection when it is needed. It's not  
important for you to worry about that now...  
  
The shuttle you refer to as the 1701D is from the 24th century, sir. It is  
out of its own time. It is an interruption to the timeline." He sighed.  
"You have to destroy it, and any records you have of it."  
  
"What?" Jon got to his feet. "That's insane! What is it with you anyway?  
Anytime I speak with you about whatever the hell it is you do, it  
seems to me you're asking me to go counter to my instincts. Don't you  
realize what this shuttle and her technology means to us? We could shave  
years off our current plans for expanding the space exploration Program..."  
  
"The captain of the ship that shuttle belongs to went to great lengths to  
ensure it did not disrupt the timeline, Captain!" Daniels closed the  
distance between them. "He endeavored to leave history untainted by an  
accident that could impact on generations of his people." The younger man  
stared into Jon's eyes. "You've got a choice to make, Captain Archer. That  
man's very existence... the existence of his crew and possibly thousands of  
other people rest on your shoulders right now."  
  
"I don't think I want to hear any more of your fancy stories." Jon held up a  
hand as the Daniels opened his mouth to speak. "Last time you came here, you  
showed me your 'Temporal Observatory' I was impressed. I had  
never seen anything like it. In the end though, it amounted to so many  
pretty pictures. We couldn't make the device work. We couldn't replicate  
your hi-tech magic show. Why should I believe that what you're telling me is  
anything more than some intricate fabrication?"  
  
Daniels drew a deep breath. "Alright, you have a point." He took a half step  
back. "I can understand that you may want more solid proof to back up what I  
am saying. What if I told you I can take you to the very point in history  
that all this began...What if I offered to let you meet with the captain of  
 _Enterprise_ 1701D?"  
  
Jonathan narrowed his eyes. "I would want to bring a member of my crew  
along - to observe. After all, I am going to have to explain all this to  
them afterwards. I..."  
  
The younger man shook his head. "I'm sorry, Captain, I can't do that. I can  
transport you and myself, but to transport any more than that would take  
more time to achieve than we can afford."  
  
The captain conceded with a small nod. "When can we go?"  
  
"Now."  
  


* * *

  
Trip woke slowly, stirring inside the warm cocoon of blankets. He  
sighed, blinked his eyes open and stretched luxuriously.  
  
"Good morning." The voice was soft, the pitch familiar and warm. A hand  
stroked along his side. Trip smiled and rolled over to face Malcolm.  
  
"Hi," he said.  
  
"I was wondering how long it would take you to surface. The alarm sounded  
two minutes ago." Reed claimed the Tucker's lips in a gentle kiss,  
exploring slowly.  
  
Trip sucked on Malcolm's tongue, eliciting a growl of pleasure  
before Malcolm gently pulled away.  
  
"Shower," he said firmly. "Then breakfast, if we're sharp about it. We've  
got a busy day ahead."  
  
"You, my friend, are boring!" Trip said. He rolled over and sat up on the  
edge of the bed, scrubbing his hands through his short blond hair.  
  
"You didn't seem to think so last night," Malcolm quipped as he too sat up  
and then got to his feet, stretching with his arms raised above his head,  
arching his back as he reveled in the pull of muscles.  
  
"Damn but you make a pretty sight," Trip commented from the other side of  
the room, prompting a snort of laughter before Malcolm headed for the  
bathroom.  
  
"You can make the tea," the lieutenant called over his shoulder as he turned  
on the shower. "I won't be long."  
  
"Turn out the light, take a shower, make the tea. I feel so...  
domesticated," Trip grumbled as he set two mugs on the counter and set the  
small kettle to boil.  
  
Rummaging in a cabinet he located the tea and a small jar of instant coffee  
and set about preparing hot drinks for them both. He whistled quietly to  
himself as he worked, feeling unaccountably cheerful.  
  
As he stirred sugar into his coffee, Trip glanced over his shoulder. "Tea's  
on!"  
  
He picked up the steaming mug of coffee and moved to the table, sipping the  
hot, strong liquid and closing his eyes in appreciation. "That's not bad,  
for instant," he said as Malcolm emerged from the  
bathroom, his hips swathed in a dark blue towel.  
  
"Well, I'm glad it meets your approval." Malcolm took a quick sip of tea,  
but didn't sit down. He paced about the cabin fetching clean underwear and  
socks and proceeded to dress. "You can borrow socks and underwear," he said.  
"I think we're about the same size."  
  
"Thanks," Trip took the hint and left his coffee on the table, heading into  
the bathroom.  
  
The engineer showered quickly, rubbing soap lather through his hair and  
whistling the same snatch of tune.  
  
Malcolm was fully dressed and waiting for him when Trip walked out of the  
bathroom, he looked a little antsy.  
  
"Do you need to make that infernal noise? If you do, do you think you could  
do it in tune?"  
  
Trip picked up the clean underwear and socks that Malcolm had laid out for  
him, and began to dress. "What?" he looked puzzled for a moment. "Oh, you  
mean the whistlin'?" he chuckled. "I always whistle when I just got my rocks  
off." His words were accompanied by a wink.  
  
"Rocks off-" Malcolm coughed. "Indeed." The lieutenant finished his tea and  
set the empty mug on the table. "Will you please hurry up? We have a lot to  
do, and I doubt that the captain will tolerate tardiness."  
  
"Fine..." Trip muttered. "You don't hafta remind me again that we have work  
to do." He continued to dress as he spoke "You know what? Why don't you just  
go on without me...I wouldn't wanna make you late, L’tenant."  
  
"I won't be late if you just move a little faster...and, Commander, both  
socks don't go on the same foot." Malcolm shook his head, pressing his  
lips together to suppress a snicker.  
  
"I suppose you think that's funny." Trip reached for his boots, muttering  
under his breath.  
  
"You really are the spoiled southern brat, aren't you?"  
  
"Do you always wake up this cheerful? Look! If you're feelin' a little blue  
around your balls, you can't blame anyone but yourself." The commander  
zipped his coveralls. "I did offer to take care of that for ya." Trip looked up  
and met Malcolm’s gaze, scowling at the amused glint in his eyes.  
  
"And you will, when I say so and not before!" Malcolm paused, running an  
appraising eye over Tucker. "There's a shaver in the bathroom cabinet. Use  
it."  
  
The note of command returned to Malcolm's voice and Trip suddenly  
resented it. He narrowed his eyes. "I think I prefer to use my own  
shaver," he replied as he moved to the door. "I'll see you in the launch  
bay, Lieutenant."  
  
"You look much sexier clean shaven." Malcolm began to clear away their mugs.  
  
Trip paused and looked over his shoulder at Reed, opening his mouth to  
speak, but gathering the unmistakable impression that, this time, he had  
been dismissed when Malcolm continued to tidy up, not looking at him.  
With a shake of his head, Trip hit the control to open the door and stepped  
into the hallway. "What the hell am I gettin' myself into here?" He asked  
himself headed for his cabin.  
  



	10. Chapter 10

Malcolm watched as Trip stepped out into the corridor. He could see the internal struggle  
written large on Trip's face as he, paused in the doorway.   
Malcolm kept his eyes lowered, pointedly fixed on the task of clearing away the   
mugs from their hasty morning drinks.  
  
He waited until the door closed behind Trip before he allowed himself a  
smile.  
  
He could imagine that Trip was feeling conflicted by the exchange. The  
commander was used to having things go his way. His easy charm was usually   
enough to disarm anyone.  
  
After rinsing the mugs Malcolm wiped them dry with a cloth and set them back  
in their customary place on the counter. He emptied the remaining water from  
the kettle and refilled it. He liked fresh water for his tea.  
  
He wiped the counter with the same cloth and tossed it into a laundry chute  
before he left his quarters and made his way to the lift at the end  
of the hall.  
  
There was no time for breakfast. Having Trip  
with him at night was certainly pleasant, but if it were to become a  
regular habit, Malcolm realized, he was going to have to set the alarm at  
least a half hour earlier. He allowed his lips to curve slightly, _either  
that or teach Trip the true meaning of the term 'hurry up_,' he thought.  
 _Which in itself could be a very stimulating exercise._  
  
The lift doors slid open, and as he walked into the launch bay, Malcolm  
nodded to Captain Archer who was waiting for them. "Good morning,  
Captain," he said as he moved to a workstation and began to prep a  
shuttle pod for launch.  
  
With his usual single mindedness, Malcolm turned his thoughts from Charles  
Tucker to work with minimal effort.  
"We should be ready for launch in three minutes, sir."  
  
"There won't be any launch, Malcolm." The captain's voice was level. Almost,  
Malcolm thought, too level.  
  
"Sir?" Reed looked at the captain for the first time. There was something  
about him, something subtle, a slight pallor, and a change of demeanor.  
  
Archer turned to meet Malcolm's eyes. "There's been a change of plans," he  
murmured. "As soon as Trip gets here, I'll explain.”  
  
"Explain what?" Trip entered the launch bay at that moment. "What's  
happening?"  
  
"Trip." Archer waved the engineer into the room. "I've had some... news this  
morning. It changes things." He moved to where Malcolm stood.  
  
"Alright, so what's the news?" Trip looked at Malcolm who shrugged lightly.  
  
"It's about the 1701D." Jon seemed to fumble a moment; his brows drew  
together in a frown. "I don't quite know how to say this..." He sighed.  
  
"Well, just come on out and say it, Cap'n. What about the shuttle pod?"  
  
"We have to destroy it, Trip."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Both officers stared at the captain in disbelief.  
  
"Why? By who's order? I don't understand," Trip glanced towards Malcolm  
again as he spoke. "Everythin' was fine last night. Why the sudden change?"  
  
"By _my_ order." Archer rubbed his face with one hand. "You're going to have  
to trust me on this. I wouldn't ask this of either of you if it weren't  
important."  
  
"But, destroy the shuttle pod, sir?" Malcolm shook his head slightly. "I don't   
understand why you think that is necessary. There is so much we can learn  
from it. So much technology, I..."  
  
"That's why we need to destroy it." Jon faced them both. "I had a visit this  
morning, from Daniels. He..."  
  
"Cap'n are you sure you're feelin' alright?" Trip stepped forward, meeting the  
captain's eyes. "You and I both know that Daniels is dead. Silik killed him,  
remember?"  
  
"He's not dead. He came to my quarters this morning, he told me things..."  
  
"I saw him die, Cap'n. I was there." Trip moved to put a hand on Jon's arm.  
"I think maybe you should see Doctor Phlox..." He smiled. "I'll go with you,  
huh?"  
  
"No, Trip. Listen to me!" Jon shrugged the engineer's hand off. "I know you  
think I've lost my mind; I don't blame you, but... I've got proof." As he  
spoke, the captain produced a small device from his pocket and held it up.  
"Please, just hear me out, Trip... Malcolm." He looked from one to the other  
as he waited for their response.  
  
Trip glanced over his shoulder at Malcolm, who nodded slightly. "Alright, we'll  
look at your proof, Cap'n."  
  
Jonathan nodded and set the device down on a console. He pressed a button  
to activate it and took a step back as a holographic image appeared above  
the console.  
  
"Daniels took me on a ... journey, to the 24th century," He said. "We met  
with the captain of _Enterprise_.  
  
Trip stared in amazement as a holograph of a Starship in miniature appeared,  
hovering in midair above the station. He took a few steps and tentatively  
raised a hand, touching the hull of the ship, his eyes wide.  
  
The ship was sleek and trim. Her hull painted a gleaming, pristine white,  
every line and plane of her designed for speed and efficiency. The name  
 _Enterprise_ NCC 1701D was blazoned proudly on the saucer section. The  
engineer shook his head slightly and let out a low whistle. "That's some  
ship."  
  
"You should see the inside." Jon smiled, and then returned  
his gaze to the holograph.  
  
The scene changed, and the three men watched as Jonathan Archer appeared,  
flanked on either side by Daniels, and an older, distinguished looking man  
wearing an unfamiliar red and black uniform.  
  
"That's Captain Picard," Jon said. "He commands that ship you just saw, and  
the shuttle pod, _Curie_ \- the one we call 1701D, belongs to his ship's  
complement.  
  
"Captain Picard recorded a message, after he and I talked, that he wanted me  
to play to you." Jon stepped forward and pressed a button on the device and  
the screen flickered for a moment before a life sized image of Picard  
appeared standing just in front of the console where the holographic device  
rested.  
  
"Commander Tucker, Lieutenant Reed," The image said. "I am Captain Jean Luc  
Picard, of the Federation Starship _Enterprise_." He paused, his brown eyes  
warming. "It is an honor to speak to you."  
  
Trip glanced at Malcolm, who was staring with rapt attention at the  
holographic image, his grey eyes intense and his lips slightly parted. The  
lieutenant was riveted by every word the man spoke.  
  
"I know that much of what you are seeing, and hearing may seem  
incomprehensible to you. I realize that our request to destroy the  
 _Curie_ cannot be an easy one for you to hear." Picard smiled. "I have an  
engineer aboard my ship who would no doubt strongly relate to your feelings;  
a man who shares your fascination for new advances in technology. Trust me  
when I say that we would not ask this of you if there were any other way.  
  
Trip swallowed heavily. Captain Picard's words held too much of a ring of veracity.   
On the one hand, Trip's speculations about the possibility of time travel were being   
proven true before his eyes, and on the other, his dreams of getting a jump on technology   
were dissolving. He looked at Jonathan and then returned his gaze to Captain  
Picard's face.  
  
"The preservation of time - is an important matter.” Picard took a few steps  
forward, and Trip had to restrain the urge to back away as the image took  
on a weird vitality as the captain continued to speak.  
  
"It is no secret in our time that there are those who would seek to corrupt  
and change history with little or no regard to the impact their actions  
would have upon countless peoples and races. We in the Federation and in  
other organizations are at pains to see that does not happen. So, we must  
ask that you destroy _Curie_ , that you erase the records of your research,  
and that you never mention her again - to anyone."  
  
Malcolm gasped, lowering his eyes to his console.  
  
Trip heard the strangled sound and took a half step towards the lieutenant.  
He gulped, emotions warring within him as he met the armory officer's eyes  
and nodded his understanding.  
  
"Turn it off..." Malcolm looked at the captain. "Please, sir."  
  
Trip nodded, a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. "We've seen  
enough, Cap'n." He took another step towards Malcolm, aware of protocol, but  
needing the closeness. The raw emotion in Malcolm's face caused an answering   
sense of desolation in Trip. He sighed with relief when the image of Picard   
flickered and vanished.  
  
Jonathan Archer sighed. He could see the effect Picard's words had on the  
two men. He picked up the device and slipped it back into his pocket.  
Bowing his head for a moment he pondered the best course of action to take.  
  
He looked across at Malcolm who stood frozen by the launch controls.   
The lieutenant was pale, his eyes averted, refusing to meet the captain's   
gaze. He leaned heavily on the workstation, his hands balled into fists.  
  
Archer drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'll be in my quarters,"  
he said and slowly left the launch bay, leaving his engineer and armory  
officer to talk it out between them.  
  
"Are you okay?" Trip moved to Malcolm's side, gently touching the younger  
man on the shoulder.  
  
Malcolm shook his head. "I just..." He drew a long shuddering breath, and  
then pounded the console in front of him in frustration. "Dammit, why?"  
Malcolm looked up, meeting Trip's gaze. "Why?"  
  
"I dunno." Trip's tone was flat. "But I know that it must be important. How  
do we know what might happen if we didn't go along with this? You've heard  
what the Cap'n said about this temporal cold war and whatever else. I guess  
we just can't afford to do anything here and now that is gonna affect how  
things go in the future." He sighed. "I won't pretend this makes any more  
sense to me than it does to you, Malcolm. Thing is, if the Cap'n says  
destroy it, then we hafta destroy it. His word's law."  
  
"Do you really think it would make that much difference if we made a few  
upgrades?" Malcolm shook his head and pushed away from the console. "I don't!"  
  
"Well, I guess that'd depend on the upgrades," Trip replied. "Would you even  
be thinkin' about 'em if we hadn't found that shuttle pod?"  
  
Malcolm went very still, his expression thoughtful as he considered Trip's  
words. After a moment he shook his head. "I suppose not."  
  
Trip sighed, "Look, Malcolm, I don't like this idea any better than you do.  
But if this is what the Cap'n says we hafta do, then I'm willing to trust  
his word. You saw that recording he showed us. I think it's real. I think we  
have a duty to do as Cap'n Picard says."  
  
Malcolm drew a deep breath, and slightly shook his head pressing the fingers  
of one hand to his temple. "Yes, of course," he said softly, seeming to rein  
himself in. "I'll... go and make the preparations." Without a  
backward glance, the lieutenant left the launch bay.  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

The _Curie_ proved surprisingly easy to destroy. With her shields down,  
she was a sitting target.  
  
When Archer gave the order to fire, a strange spell had fallen over the  
bridge. Each person watched in silence as bright bolts of plasma issued  
from the phase cannons.  
  
No one spoke or moved as the energy beams struck, and the small vessel began to  
break apart under the assault. Malcolm kept his eyes glued to his  
workstation, his hands moving through the firing sequence as  
though on autopilot. He gave a long burst of phase energy, followed by a  
single torpedo for good measure, and the small vessel erupted in a bloom  
of fire and debris.  
  
The silence continued for several moments after the explosion. The fireball  
shimmered, faded and slowly dissipated and still no one spoke.  
  
It was Malcolm who broke the spell. "Target destroyed,  
sir."  
  
Jonathan seemed to shake himself before he glanced at the armory  
officer. "Good work, Malcolm." He turned and moved to his chair, and the  
rest of the bridge seemed to come to life with that movement.  
  
"There is nothing in the debris field large enough to be salvaged." T'Pol  
reported.  
  
Archer nodded and looked at Travis Mayweather. "Resume our previous course,  
Ensign."  
  
"Aye, sir." Travis busied himself with the navigation controls.  
  
When Malcolm left the bridge a short time later, no one commented or  
attempted to stop him.

* * *

It seemed to Trip as he walked along the hallway that night after shift that  
the entire ship was brooding. The corridors seemed deserted, and those  
crewmembers who moved about were subdued and pensive. His own mood  
was quieter than usual.  
  
He made his way to the mess hall more out of habit than hunger or a desire  
for social interaction.  
  
Pausing in the doorway he looked around. One or two tables were occupied  
with enlisted or junior officers. All of them quiet and edgy. Trip supposed it was  
because the one topic they all wanted to discuss was off limits. Under  
Captain's orders, no one was to discuss the events surrounding the shuttle pod 1701D.  
  
Trip's eyes picked out the solitary figure at a corner table. Malcolm sat  
with his back to the room, head down, and Trip couldn't tell if the  
lieutenant was eating or reading. He walked towards Malcolm, acknowledging  
greetings from one or two engineering staff as he passed.  
  
"Malcolm?" Trip stopped by Reed's table. He watched Reed  
dispiritedly pushing food around on a plate in front of him. "Malcolm!"  
Trip spoke a little louder when there was no response.  
  
"What?" Malcolm's head snapped up. Oh." He looked away. "Hello, Commander."  
  
"Ya mind if I join ya, or is this a private funeral?"  
  
"Hm?" Malcolm was obviously distracted. "Oh... of course." He waved Trip to a  
seat. "I'm afraid I'm not much company at the moment."  
  
"Well, you're not the only one." Trip moved to the chair opposite  
Malcolm and sat down. "Rough day, huh."  
  
"I've had better." Malcolm poked at a piece of broccoli with his fork  
pushing it into a mound of mashed potato.  
  
Trip nodded. "Can I get you a cup of tea or...somethin'?"  
  
"That would be nice."  
  
"Alright, I could use a coffee myself..." Trip started to get up, and then  
thought better of it. "On second thoughts what would you say to comin' back  
to my place for that cup of tea?"  
  
Malcolm met his eyes for the first time. "I'd say yes."  
  
"Good. Let's go then," Trip stood up and headed for the door.  
  
Neither man spoke much on the way to Trip's quarters, each occupied with  
his own thoughts.  
  
  
"Siddown," Trip said to Malcolm as they walked into his cabin.

"You've slightly more space here than I have." Malcolm looked around appreciatively.

Trip shook his head. "It has its drawbacks. I'm on the fore section of the saucer. He indicated  
the sloping ceiling with a jerk of his chin. "Can't tell ya how many times I whacked my head when  
I first came aboard."

Malcolm chuckled and sat on the chair at Tucker's desk. He examined the  
Computer console. "Hm. Direct access to the engineering computer systems.  
That must come in handy."  
  
"I guess so. Makes it hard to leave work at work, though."  
Trip glanced at him as he set a kettle to boil.  
"You wanna talk, Malcolm?"  
  
"What's the point? There's really not much to say, is there? Besides - we're  
under orders not to discuss it."  
  
Trip frowned, busying himself for a moment making coffee for himself  
and a mug of tea for the lieutenant. He sighed as he carried the mugs to the  
table and set one in front of Malcolm. "Drink it," he said. "You  
look like hell and if I know anythin' about you, you haven't had anythin' to eat or  
drink in hours." He shook his head, as Malcolm appeared about to protest.  
"This is my turf, Malcolm, and I'll call the shots."  
  
"Yes, sir." Malcolm picked up the mug and took a sip of the hot liquid,  
closing his eyes as he swallowed it.  
  
Trip shook his head as he sat opposite. "Okay, just cut  
the crap. In here, it's Trip. No sir, no Commander...like you said in your  
cabin. We leave the ranks at the door." He sipped his coffee. "And I say we  
talk about whatever is on your mind, Malcolm."  
  
"No one gives a damn about what happened out there today, do they? I was  
there on the bridge. They all went on as if nothing had happened - the  
greatest opportunity this crew has come across yet was destroyed in front of  
their eyes and...it meant nothing!"  
  
"Is that what you think?" Trip was incredulous. "You really think no one  
cares?" The commander shook his head. "What's wrong with you, are you  
blind?"  
  
"Perhaps I am." Malcolm pushed his mug aside and looked into Trip's eyes.  
"Perhaps I don't see things the same way you do. Perhaps this is a bad idea  
after all!" He got to his feet. "I think I need to sleep."  
  
"Sit yer ass back in that chair, Malcolm!" Trip got up as well, moving  
around the table to stand in front of the younger man. "Don't force me to  
make that an order."  
  
Malcolm looked into Trip’s eyes and took a deep breath. He  
studied Trip's face for a moment in silence then raised an eyebrow. "You  
said there were no ranks in private areas. You really should make up your  
mind, Commander."  
  
Trip drew in his breath, biting back an angry retort. Malcolm was right.  
He _was_ pulling rank when he had just said that ranks didn't apply in private.  
He took a half step back. "Alright, I'm sorry for trying to pull rank on you," he said. "I  
don't want you to leave, Malcolm."  
  
"Then ask me to stay."  
  
"Stay here with me, Malcolm. Please?"  
  
Reed nodded, suddenly looking very tired. "It's been a  
long day," he said, and rubbed a hand across his face.  
  
"Here, sit down and finish your tea." Trip guided him back to his chair.  
Malcolm still looked as though he may bolt at any moment.  
It was plain to Trip that the man was not comfortable with the prospect of talking  
things out. He sighed, deciding to give the lieutenant some think space.  
"I'm gonna grab a shower, and when I come back, we can talk. Okay?"  
  
"Yes, alright." Malcolm picked up the mug once more, taking a sip of the now  
lukewarm beverage.  
  
Trip straightened up and moved towards the bathroom. _If he's still here when_  
 _I get back, that is._  
  
Stripping out of his uniform, Trip turned on the shower, letting the  
water run as hot as he could stand it. He stepped in and ducked his  
head under the stream letting the hot water run  
down over his back, tracing its path across weary muscles.  
  
Closing his eyes he lost himself in the pleasurable sensation of droplets  
drumming across his shoulders, easing the day's tension and stress away.  
  
He started when the shower door opened and Malcolm stepped into the  
cubicle with him. Opening his eyes, he turned and took the armory officer  
into his arms, holding him close as the water and steam swirled  
around them.  
  
"Hi," he said softly, letting his hands run up and down Malcolm's back.  
  
"I got lonely," Malcolm said, "Besides, your quarters are too cold."  
  
"I'll adjust the regulator when we get out." Trip said nuzzling against  
Malcolm's chin feeling the fine growth of stubble rasp against his skin.  
  
"I already did that. I hope you don't mind." Malcolm stepped closer,  
pressing his body against Trip's.  
  
"Why would I mind?" Trip ran his hands along Malcolm's spine, tracing the  
lines of muscle and sinew.  
  
"Oh, something about this being your turf and you calling the shots?"  
Malcolm whispered in reply his lips mere inches from Trip's  
  
"I'm willing to let it pass - just this once." Trip closed his eyes and  
pressed his mouth against the yielded lips of the other man.  
  
  
~~FINIS~~  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As much as I dislike leaving questions unanswered in stories, for the purposes of this one, it was necessary.  
> Trip, Malcolm and the rest of the NX-01 crew will never know what really happened to the _Curie._  
>  You can, though, if you watch TNG Season 7's _Parallels_

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this work, please leave kudos or a comment to let the author know.


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